Braving the Storm
by Leahna
Summary: *Chapter 7* since the fate of our explorers is still in doubt, this is a possible resolution to the season three cliffhanger.
1. Chapter 1

I am hoping that this fic will become mute as the real thing comes to pass but until then, I wanted a little resolution -- just for me -- maybe others will enjoy too.  
  
  
  
There was only darkness; night eternal. The world had spiralled in upon itself creating a brilliant point of light which then winked out.  
  
Only an infinite void remained.  
  
And then, in the nothingness, like the dawn of a new day, the light returned. It was dim at first -- no bigger than a pin-prick. Steadily it grew bigger, stronger, brighter.  
  
At the centre of the light Veronica, the protector stood. She cried out with pain and exhaustion. Gritting her teeth, she thrust the trion higher still. Finally, exerting every ounce of strength she possessed, her sheer will power set the plateau to work healing itself. Completely spent, she collapsed.  
  
********  
  
"Not here," Finn gasped. One second she'd been with Veronica in the middle of a light storm whipping through the tree-house, then she no more than blinked and her she was back in the future; the time where she'd been born and where she had never wanted to return.   
  
Slavers in a frankensteinian vehicle were coming up fast. She rolled to her feet and kept moving, running as fast as she could. She headed for the trees hoping that by the time she reached the tree-house she would be back in the time she had claimed as her own.  
  
Behind her, Finn heard the slaver car slide on the grass and slam into a tree. She didn't stop, slow, or spare a glance over her shoulder. There were always more slavers.  
  
********  
  
Lord John Roxton crouched behind a fallen tree. His gun was useless -- all ammunition gone. The conquistadors were closing in. "Marguerite," he said under his breath, "wherever you are, may it be a better place than this." He shut his mind determinedly to the possibility that she could be in greater trouble than he. Grabbing up a heavy stick, he jumped out and hollered, "Come on!"  
  
Laughing at the English lord's seemingly ineffectual weapon, the Spaniards charged as Ferdinand Perez had ordered.  
  
Swinging wildly, Roxton caught the first conquistador across the face sending his helmet flying. Without any wasted movement, the hunter swept the limb along the ground tripping two more of the determined Spaniards.  
  
The now familiar rippling crawled across the area and Roxton found himself alone. "Well," he muttered, "that was convenient." Just to be sure, he checked behind the trees for any sign of the anachronistic warriors. "Now, Marguerite, just where are you?" He wasn't sure where -- or when-- to start looking for her, but he began his search all the same.  
  
********  
  
In a barren white room, Professor George Challenger lay strapped and unable to move upon a stark metal table. He watched with horrified fascination the scalpel which was steadily, ominously nearing his forehead. "Listen to me," he tried to reason with Icarus, the mindless, once human automaton who bore the surgical knife. "You can't do this."  
  
The poor creature's eyes were vacant and unresponsive.  
  
"I can help you," Challenger pleaded, "I may be your world's only hope."  
  
The mechanical voice with it's false female persona interrupted the scientist, taunting him, "You would save a world but you can not even save yourself."  
  
Icarus stopped and seemed to freeze in place.  
  
"Continue the operation," the machine prodded. But the mute human refused to move. "You cannot defy your superiors."  
  
Once again the scalpel moved. Challenger twisted his head in a vain attempt to avoid the sharp, deadly blade. The scientist was astonished that the scalpel moved on past his face and sliced into the white bands holding him to the cold slab.  
  
"You are behaving inappropriately," the female voice berated calmly. "Stop or you will be punished."  
  
Icarus cut through the remaining straps and dropped the scalpel. Without a glance at Challenger, the pale, bald human approached the tall obelisk which stood in one corner of the white room.   
  
Sounding somewhat irritated, the voice from the shining white pillar said, "Stop now! Icarus, you must obey."  
  
Throwing his arms around the blank obelisk, he ripped and shoved soundlessly until with sparks flying, the machine began to give.  
  
Icarus fell, bearing the pillar to the floor. The machine kept repeating it's litany, "You must stop, you must stop."  
  
Challenger never had the chance to assist the mountainous man because the time ripples grabbed him and wisked him from the frighteningly sterile future.  
  
******** 


	2. Chapter 2

Edward Malone watched in disbelief as the dirty, blood-thirsty Vikings advanced. He'd used every weapon he had, all of his bullets were spent. Several of the Norsemen had fallen, but the rest were not underestimating him. All that was left in his rucksack were his journals. In another moment he might be reduced to throwing them.   
  
"What is going on?" Malone asked himself. The time ripples had whisked him here, but he had no idea what the ripples were, or indeed, where 'here' was.  
  
Only a smattering of boulders stood between the writer and his pursuers.  
  
He resorted to pelting them with rocks, but it did little good. These burley fighters were not easily dissuaded. Backing up as he continued pitching any rock close at hand, he suddenly froze. One of the foremost Vikings looked familiar; all too familiar. He felt as though he was looking into a mirror. He stumbled backward in disbelief and ran out of ground. Plunging nearly one hundred feet down a steep incline, he landed unconscious in a shallow stream.  
  
********  
  
He'd been running for what felt like hours, but time no longer seemed to have any meaning. Lord John Roxton had only one intent: find Marguerite. He had no starting point. Shed been pulled from his side by the time distortions leaving no clue to her present whereabouts, so the hunter followed his instincts.   
  
Three possibilities immediately: the tree-house, the cave where Challenger had built his time travel machine, and the cave where he and Marguerite had been trapped. He ruled out the tree-house. Besides, if she was there, she'd be with Challenger and safe -- at least as safe as possible under present conditions. If, as the professor had theorised, his time machine was the cause of their current dilemma Marguerite would stay far from it. That left the cave.  
  
In his heart, he knew she was there and he knew time was running out.   
  
********  
  
Professor Challenger stopped short. He'd been running toward Icarus, but the white room and it's occupants were gone. The replacement wasn't much of an improvement. He was standing on cracked concrete and looking up at the ruined, crumbling towers of New Amazonia.  
  
******** 


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, Veronica opened her eyes. Her entire body hurt. Pushing her blonde hair back, she sat up and looked around. At first she thought nothing had changed, but as she stretched her arms, her back, her neck, and then finally stood, she realised that the wind had stopped. Although the funnel of light still engulfed the tree-house, discordance no longer emanated from the golden glow. The trion, clutched tightly in her hand, continued to radiate both light and heat, but the pain and burning was gone.   
  
"Why isn't it over?" she asked the empty room. "What more can I do?"  
  
She repositioned herself at the centre of her mother's markings on the floor. Once again she held her pendant aloft, but this time with more confidence. "All right," the beautiful jungle girl said decisively, "all right, now we bring them back." She closed her eyes and concentrated on her friends and on the plateau as it was. Everything had to return to its proper state. She wouldn't allow for any other outcome.  
  
********  
  
Marguerite struggled vainly against the strong hands holding her, pressing her down against the stone altar. Bochra's replacement, his dark, greasy hair hanging in his pasty face, smiled down at her malevolently. The druid raised a large, crude dagger high above his head.   
  
There had been many times when Marguerite had feared for her life, but never had she stood to lose so much. For the first time, she had a family and a man she loved desperately. And the real miracle: he loved her too. "Roxton," she screamed in desperation; crying for the future they would never have, "where are you?"  
  
The lead druid began chanting in a long forgotten tongue, but for Marguerite it might as well have been common English. "Take this darkness," he began, "return the light. Bind the evil one for all time." Over and over he chanted his litany, and the robed followers joined their voices to his.  
  
Closing her eyes, the beautiful heiress conjured Roxton's face. This cave had nearly killed them both, almost succeeded in tearing them apart, and ended up bringing them closer than ever. It was almost fitting that she die here.  
  
But she didn't want to die. "Roxton," her mind screamed, "you've always saved me before. Please, please, just once more."  
  
The robed figures grew quiet.  
  
Marguerite's eyes flew open to see the dagger gleam high above her. As it descended rapidly toward her breast, she screamed, "NO!"  
  
********  
  
Edward Malone sat up and shook his head. Untucking his shirt, he used the drier spots to wipe mud from his face. "Maybe I lost them," he muttered hopefully. A sear landed inches from his thigh. "Or, maybe not," he revised. Jumping to his feet, he took up the spear and resumed his flight.  
  
As he ran, he began to wonder about the Viking who looked enough like him to be his twin. Could he be a relative? Some distant ancestor? Or was it mere coincidence? Marguerite always claimed there was no such thing as coincidence.   
  
The reporter struggled to keep his footing in the slick grass. The Norsemen were gaining on him. He continued into the thicket hoping to elude his pursuers. Ahead, the bushes began to stir. He skidded to a stop just as a raptor lept from the rustling shrubs.   
  
"Great," Malone grumbled, "death by raptors or barbarians. Some choice."  
  
********  
  
A metallic glint in the grass caught Roxton's attention. He stopped and grabbed up the small weapon.  
  
"Marguerite's gun," he said with trepidation. The empty feeling in the pit of his stomach began to spread. A cold dread gripped him. "Not only alone, but unarmed," he fretted. "At least I'm on the right track."  
  
He checked the pistol. It was still fully loaded. Holding the gun in one hand, he weighed it against the branch he still held in the other. The stick hit the ground as he continued his search with renewed urgency. There was now a trail to follow. It was apparent from the footprints that Marguerite had been seized by a large group and she hadn't gone willingly.  
  
********  
  
The hollow echo of his own footsteps seemed to be the loneliest sound that Challenger had ever heard. Tall, empty buildings climbed skyward on either side; buildings which had once teemed with life and now stood as collapsing, forgotten relics of a dead civilisation. The jungle was reclaiming the city. Vines bit into concrete and attempted to strangle steel girders. Vegetation appeared to be the city's only resident.  
  
The Professor walked on with only the clatter of his footsteps to keep him company. He walked aimlessly until, weary in both body and spirit, he sat on the ruins of a toppled statue.  
  
The sound of footsteps continued.  
  
A voice behind him said, "Hello, Challenger, it's about time."  
  
********  
  
Roxton hurried along, following the blatant trail left by Marguerite's abductors. They evidently had not feared pursuit as they had made no attempt to hide their path.  
  
The trail ended at the mouth of the cave, just as the handsome hunter had expected. The cave's entrance was no longer blocked. More accurately, the cave-in had not yet happened.  
  
Readying Marguerite's pistol, Roxton cautiously entered. As he neared the large chamber, he heard chanting. He flattened himself against the rough wall and inched closer until he was right at the entrance to the main cave. He tentatively peeked into the cavern. There he saw several figures in hooded brown robes. Their attention was on the altar. Their appearance was very familiar. "Druids," his mind supplied.  
  
And then he saw his beloved Marguerite. Four of the druids held her securely to the altar stone, and a fifth held a knife high, tip pointed down -- right at Marguerite's heart.  
  
The chanting stopped.  
  
Roxton pulled back fearing that he'd been seen. He counted to three, cocked the pistol, and charged into the chamber.  
  
The dagger raced downward.  
  
Roxton screamed, "No," his voice mingling with Marguerite's. The pistol roared, and the druids holding the heiress to the altar fell. But the blade plunged deep into Marguerite's breast. Roxton heard the blade scrape against the stone beneath the woman he loved as his own voice continued it's agonised cry alone.   
  
******** 


	4. Chapter 4

Challenger jumped up and turned around to find himself face to face with.... "Finn?"  
  
"Don't act so surprised," the woman admonished him. "You are here to find me, right?"  
  
The professor stared in amazement. She was Finn, yet not Finn; at least not the Finn he remembered. This woman was at least twenty years older. "I'm sorry, Finn," he explained, "I had no control over coming here. The time distortions....." He broke off as a theory occurred to him. His face lit as it always did when he embarked on one of his dissertations, "The distortions seem to flow, like the current in a river. Now, perhaps those currents carry us to certain moments in time; moments that impact our lives. Just suppose..."  
  
"That's really interesting, Challenger," the older Finn interrupted sending a nervous look overhead, "but we need to take this inside. There is a lot you need to know."  
  
She led the way while an astonished Professor Challenger followed.  
  
********  
  
The cone of golden light vanished as quickly as it had begun. Veronica lowered the trion. She smiled when she saw that it once again appeared to be no more than an insignificant piece of jewellery. Her fingers closed around it. "I did it!" she exclaimed clutching the pendant to her chest. Running to the balcony, she sighed, "I really did it."  
  
The verdant green jungle had returned to its prior state. But there was as yet no sign of the others. She couldn't just wait here, but where to look?  
  
Challenger had been heading to the windmill. That seemed as good a starting place as any.  
  
********  
  
The raptor screeched as it lunged at Malone. The blonde reporter crouched low keeping a firm grip on his spear. When the dinosaur loomed over him, he thrust the sturdy weapon deep into the raptor's belly. It gave one more loud bellow, then fell silent.  
  
Malone gave a sigh of relief which was short lived. Two more raptors appeared. "Why do these guys always bring their friends?" he muttered, exasperated.  
  
Several Vikings burst through the brush.  
  
Malone was on his knees between the two factions. He vainly tried to pull his spear from the dead raptor, but to no avail. It was lodged too tightly.  
  
Throwing himself to the side, he realised that the Norsemen were no longer focused on him. There were now at least eight raptors attacking the fur- covered men. The animals must have been attracted by the first raptor's death cry.  
  
The reporter stayed close to the ground and headed away from the screams -- both human and creature. He didn't care at the moment where he went as long as it was far from the wholesale slaughter taking place behind him.  
  
********  
  
Anger and overwhelming loss blurred Roxton's vision and destroyed all control. He continued his wordless scream as he emptied the pistol into the druids who still stood. He continued shooting until his fevered brain finally registered the fact that he was clicking on empty chambers.  
  
He dropped the useless weapon and launched himself at the one druid still standing: the leader, their priest, the beast who had murdered Marguerite.  
  
The robed man backed away, cowering from the enraged man bearing down on him. A horde of demons could not have frightened him more. The knife gleamed as he slashed wildly. The blade bit into Roxton's arm. The druid allowed himself a gratified smile at the sight of bright red blood running along his dagger's edge; but the knife clattered to the ground forgotten as he threw his arms over his face in fear of the animate wrath which had possession of the hunter.  
  
The cut didn't slow Roxton, he hardly noticed it. Taking hold of the man's cowl, he threw him against the cave wall. His right fist connected with the priest's jaw followed immediately by his left. He continued to pummel the man, one fist after the other, unable to stop. He landed the blows as fast and hard as he could.  
  
Gradually, sanity returned. He found himself sitting atop the unconscious druid. The priest's face was unrecognisable.  
  
Roxton looked down with horror upon his bruised and bloodied hands. He pushed himself up and staggered away from the moaning body. He continued stumbling backward until he felt the stone altar against his back. The altar where Marguerite's body lay.  
  
He'd failed her, and in so doing had lost himself. Without Marguerite, nothing mattered. He slid to the ground, covered his face with his hands, and wept.  
  
******** 


	5. Chapter 5

George Challenger listened intently to the woman sitting in front of him. "But everything was the same when you returned?" he interrupted.  
  
"At first it appeared to be," Finn replied. "But I was wrong. Much more came through those wavy things..."  
  
"The time distortions," the scientist supplied.  
  
"Right, the time things. Anyway, more came here than just me. Those flying dinosaurs..."  
  
"Pterodactyls."  
  
"Yeah, only they aren't like the ones you know. They are even bigger and they're black with claws big enough to rip a man in half. They wiped out everyone -- there aren't many of them left now. There isn't much to eat now except each other."  
  
"And there is no one else still alive?"  
  
"Not for over ten years now," she confirmed.   
  
"And you've been here - alone - all these years."  
  
"Oh, I knew you would come back for me."  
  
"Finn...." Challenger began again.  
  
"I know," the older Finn said impatiently, "but I think it's like you said. You get taken someplace to you need to be." The scientist began to interrupt again, but she held up her hand to stop him. "You have to take me -- the younger me -- back to your time. There is a lot I still have to learn there. I will have to come back here, because this is my time, but I need to be in my own time, but not yet."  
  
Challenger gave her a strange look and started to speak again.  
  
"Look, Challenger," Finn didn't give him a chance. "I don't know how I know this, but I do somehow. I need to learn something from your time to help save my time and I think, something I still need to do in your time."  
  
"But how can you know..." he finally was able to interject.  
  
"I don't know what it is." She stood and peeked out a boarded off window, "I just know that there's something back there for me and it had to be done before I come back. I also know that you need to leave soon or you could be stuck here too."  
  
"But, Finn," Challenger objected, "the only way I have of traveling through time right now is the time disruptions and we don't know when or where they will occur." He had a sudden thought, "The phenomena was converging on the tree-house. Perhaps they will occur with more frequency closer to that area."  
  
"Now you're thinkin' Challenger," Finn smiled. "You'd better hurry."  
  
"I can't leave you here," he objected.  
  
"I won't be. Once you take the younger me back to your time, none of this will happen."  
  
"I can't guarantee that I can get back to you."  
  
"Well, I have more confidence in you than that," she assured him.  
  
********  
  
Loathsome sounds from the slaughter faded to background noise as Ned Malone continued his escape. When he judged himself far enough away from the massacre, and no longer being pursued, he slowed and tried to get his bearings. He tried not to think of the carnage he left behind.  
  
He turned at the soft crunch of leaves. Whoever, whatever was following him was not yet in sight. He quickly fell back behind a tree and concentrated on controlling his breathing. He did not have long to wait.  
  
Covered in blood and filth, one lone Viking stalked quietly past Ned's hiding place and stopped. He turned to Malone, axe raised. Neither man moved for several moments as each stared at his own reflection. Suddenly, the Norseman moved. The reporter ducked as the axe swished through the air where his head had been. Malone glanced at the weapon. It was lodged deep in the tree's trunk.   
  
Malone threw himself at the Viking. They hit the ground heavily. Ned scrambled to gain the upper hand. The look-alikes struggled as they punched and gouged each other. At one point, the Viking drug out his knife. Malone seized the barbarian's wrist and squeezed, but the man didn't let go of his weapon until an elbow slammed into his stomach.  
  
Once again equal, they continued to grapple. Thorns tore at them unnoticed as they tumbled down an incline. The Viking's head slammed against a rock and he was still. Ned rolled away from the unconscious Norseman and took a few deep breaths before stumbling to his feet.  
  
Completely exhausted, he staggered away.   
  
Another of the curious rippling waves was quickly approaching. "Oh, not again," he moaned just before it washed over him.  
  
********  
They had seen shadows of the fearsome predators which had wiped out the meagre population of Finn's time, but had not been pursued. Challenger ran first from building to building, then as they left the city, from tree to tree following Finn avoiding detection by the pteradactyls. They were getting close to the tree which in his own era would house their tree-house.   
  
So far there had been no hint of the time distortions.   
  
Challenger moved quicker passing Finn, more sure of the area now that they had left the concrete and steel of the city behind. He had determined not to leave her here. No one should have to live such an isolated life.  
  
A sudden dark coolness enveloped him. He turned back. The ugliest dinosaur he had ever seen was converging on Finn. "Finn, run!" He started back, but the huge talons struck quickly and sliced through the future woman's back. She was dead before her body hit the ground.  
  
"No!" he yelled. It was then that he felt the tingling of the time distortion. Finn and her world faded away.   
********  
  
Slamming his battered, blood-covered fist against the ground, Roxton steeled himself to look upon the dead body of his Marguerite. Although it had only been seconds since he'd collapsed against the altar, he felt years older. How could he ever continue without her?  
  
Laboriously, he got to his feet hoping that her eyes would be closed. He didn't think he could handle looking into her beautiful, grey-green eyes and seeing no spark of life.  
  
But her eyes were open ... and they blinked.  
  
Roxton stumbled toward her in surprise and touched her face in disbelief. "Marguerite," he gasped, "how?" Even as he asked, he realised that he didn't care. It didn't matter as long as she was alive. He pulled her to a sitting position. She looked dazed and confused. her eyes were glassy. "Marguerite?" he repeated.  
  
With great effort, she focused her eyes on the worried face before her. Her fingertips lightly skimmed his stubbled cheek. "John?"  
  
The hunter's anxious frown was banished by a broad, slightly lopsided grin. He pulled the baffled beauty off the altar and into his arms.  
  
Hesitantly, she returned his embrace.  
  
Roxton bent down; his lips ached to caress hers. His hand, buried in her thick, raven hair, tilted her head up. He could feel her warm breath.  
  
She pushed away, "this can't be real." Looking into his hazel eyes, she plead for an explanation. "How can I be alive? I saw...."  
  
Seizing her hand, Roxton brought it to his lips. He kissed her soft palm, then held it tightly against his cheek. "I'm real," he assured her. "We're both alive. I don't understand what happened, but it doesn't matter. We're together."  
  
Her eyes followed his fingers as he probed the hollow between her breasts. The silky skin was clean and unmarred.  
  
She turned to the altar. Her fingertips ran along the edges of a new divot in the cold, grey stone. "That was directly under my heart," she whispered, "how....?"  
  
"There was no blood on the knife," he reflected out loud. He took her shoulders and forced her to turn away from the altar. "When that priest attacked me," he glanced over at the still unconscious man, then turned back to Marguerite, "the blade was clean. Your blood wasn't on it. He couldn't have ... touched you."  
  
Marguerite looked down at his blood-soaked sleeve, realising for the first time that he was injured. "Apparently he didn't miss you," she said wryly glad for the distraction. She pushed his sleeve back to examine his wound. "You've managed to ruin another perfectly good shirt." She winced at the sight of the gash in his forearm.. Glancing up, she found him grinning at her. "It's going to take several stitches," she said sternly, "and not just in your shirt."  
  
"And no one could do a better job than you."  
  
She shook her head and tried unsuccessfully to keep from returning his smile. "I'll have to bind it until we get back to the tree-house." Her eyes lit on the burial cloth. She shuddered slightly as she lifted it, but felt great satisfaction as she tore long strips from it.  
  
Deftly, she wrapped and tied the make-shift bandage. A part of the shroud's symbol was visible, and she traced softly along it.  
  
"It's over, Marguerite," Roxton assured her gently. "It's over and you're safe."  
  
"But how?" she asked quietly. "I saw that knife. I watched it enter my chest. It happened."  
  
"Not exactly," said a voice behind them.  
  
******** 


	6. Chapter 6

Veronica stood in the clearing. The equipment was running smoothly. The windmill was turning leisurely in the soft breeze. The generator was humming quietly, sounding a bit like a swarm of bees. However, there was no sign of her friends.  
  
She suddenly felt very alone. She had not felt so isolated since her parents had disappeared; but then, that hadn't actually happened. So in truth, she had never been so totally alone. The young blonde had lost her second family.  
  
Completely hopeless, she sat down, cross-legged in the soft grass. "No!" she said and jerked her head up. She refused to give up. "But where do I begin?"  
  
There was no way she could just sit and wait, so she tried to approach the problem logically. The tree-house? She had just come from there so there was little point in looking again. "Think," she told herself. Most of the time, although travelling through time, the space remained the same. "All right," she admitted, "It's a reach and I may be way off, but at least it is a start."  
  
Challenger had disappeared from the base of the tree-house, Finn had been thrown from the tree-house. Roxton and Marguerite had been in the rubber tree grove, at least that is where they were headed.  
  
She stood up determinedly. Veronica had only taken a few quick steps when she saw a familiar rippling. She turned just as Ned Malone stepped from no where into the clearing.  
  
"Ned!" she squealed and ran at him.  
  
The journalist returned her enthusiastic hug, then stood back smiling and said, " knew you'd make it back."  
  
"Me?" her initial confusion melted as she recalled that she had blown away in Challenger's balloon just before Ned had gone on his self-imposed exile, "I've been back a long time. What happened to you?" Veronica asked noting his physical condition. He was scratched and bruised. His torn and tattered clothes were covered in mud and blood.  
  
"You wouldn't believe what I've seen today," he answered excitedly, "Vikings, real Vikings right here on the plateau!"  
  
"Today I'd believe anything," Veronica answered wryly.  
  
"There was a shimmering, like a mirage, and when it touched me I was taken to -- another place -- another time."  
  
"Challenger calls them time distortions."  
  
"Then you've seen them too?"  
  
"They have taken everyone! Spread them through time."  
  
"Everyone's gone?" Malone asked in disbelief.  
  
"I was hoping to somehow find them. This is where Challenger was headed, so I hoped..." she smiled at Ned and said, "but I found you."  
  
Returning her smile, the reporter said, "We can keep looking together. Where were the others headed?"  
  
"Finn was taken from the tree-house."  
  
"Finn?"  
  
Veronica stopped, momentarily startled. The future girl had become so much a part of their lives that she'd forgotten how short a time she had actually been with them. "I'll tell you about her on our way to the rubber tree grove. That's where Roxton was headed when all this started."  
  
Just as they were leaving the clearing, Veronica saw something from the corner of her eye. But when she turned, nothing was there except for the windmill still turning quietly.  
  
Ned turned too. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
She replied uncertainly, "Nothing. Apparently, nothing at all."  
  
********  
  
George Challenger stumbled forward. He couldn't believe it; Finn was gone. Looking around, he saw that he was in the clearing. Before him his magnificent windmill was working just like nothing had happened.  
  
"I'm home," he sighed.  
  
Challenger had taken no more than two steps when espied another time distortion rolling toward him. His first thought was to run the other way, but then he noticed that the phenomena had become stagnant. It was standing static as if waiting for him.  
  
"I am not going to get caught in that inhuman future again," he told the distortion. Tipping his hat to it, he turned away.  
  
Unbidden, Finn's words echoed in his mind, "You get taken someplace you need to be."  
  
Could Finn be right? Would this phenomena take him to save Finn? ... or would it take him somewhere even more horrific than he had yet seen?  
  
The choice was simple: two steps forward into the unknown, or turn and walk away; head safely back to the tree-house.  
  
"I have never played it safe before," he said out loud. "If I don't return, forgive me Jessie." Then he walked determinedly into the mysterious abnormality.  
  
******** Roxton and Marguerite turned as one to the blonde, bearded man standing behind them. He was dressed in the same robes as her abductors.  
  
"Who are you?" Roxton demanded harshly.  
  
Before the man could answer, Marguerite said in confused wonder, "I know you ... my dream ... the emeralds ... "  
  
"I am Bochra," the man smiled, then confirmed, "We have met before."  
  
"It was real," she replied in awe.  
  
"You saved our people, Morrighan."  
  
"Marguerite risked her life to save you," Roxton interrupted angrily, "Now you want to sacrifice her?"  
  
Bochra seemed unperturbed. "Dagthan," he motioned to the battered and moaning man by the wall, "decided that he was born to rule. He convinced several other druids to support him and together they rose up against me. All who would not accept him as high priest were slaughtered mercilessly. He thought he had killed me as well. However, I have power that he could not foresee. Dagthan's reign was bloody and short-lived."  
  
"That doesn't explain what happened to Marguerite," Roxton reminded him.  
  
Bochra nodded, "the quickest way to unite people and gain their allegiance is with a common enemy. Dagthan chose Morrighan. She was familiar, powerful, and his greatest threat. He twisted all that she had done and convinced his followers that she would destroy the world if allowed to live."  
  
Marguerite's fingers strayed to her chest as she asked, "but how ... "  
  
"I was almost too late. Dagthan very nearly succeeded in destroying me and I was slow to ... regenerate. I had barely enough time to move you to safety."  
  
"But I didn't go anywhere," she protested laying her palm flat against the altar. "I was right here when the knife ... "  
  
"You went a fraction of a second forward. Your echo was still visible to Dagthan and you could see him, but you could not be touched."  
  
"But I could feel them holding me down."  
  
Still smiling, the druid shook his head, "You were not removed from the present until Dagthan's knife was only a breath above you. By that time, your protector," he nodded to Roxton, "had already eliminated those men restraining you. I'm afraid that you were sent forward and brought back so quickly that your mind took a while to adjust."  
  
"And the body," Roxton asked, "there was a body buried here with Marguerite's birthmark. It was buried in this cloth!" he held up his bandaged arm.  
  
"Everything has changed since Morrighan returned our people to their proper place in time." Bochra stepped forward and took Marguerite's hand in his. "It is gratifying to have been in time to save our beautiful priestess. After all," he winked, "there is much left for you to do."  
  
With a loud, furious cry, Dagthan jumped onto Roxton and they flew backward landing heavily against the altar. Roxton slipped to the floor like a broken doll.  
  
Dagthan rose and turned to Marguerite. His face was no longer recognisable. He barely appeared human as he approached her saying, "And now, Morrighan, you die."  
  
********  
  
George Challenger looked around. He still stood in the clearing but all of his equipment had vanished. "Now," the professor mused, "assuming that I am in the right time, where do I find Finn?"  
  
He didn't have time to ponder his options.  
  
With the roar of a motor, Finn burst into sight followed closely by a very loud and unattractive automobile. He quickly crouched down to avoid being seen. The vehicle was slipping and sliding in the damp grass, but steadily gaining on the running girl. "If only I had my rifle, I could shoot their engine ... " an idea struck. He did still have one weapon. He reached down into his boot. "Yes!" he exclaimed as he withdrew his hunting knife. But the knife was no good against the motor. Even if he could hit it from here, it would do little more than bounce off the engine's metal casing. "But the tires ... " he looked at the blade. It was sharp enough to pierce a dinosaur's hide, so surely it would puncture the tire. "I only get one chance," he told himself knowing it was now or never. "I'm no Veronica, but I came to bring you back, Finn, and I am not leaving without you." The scientist took a deep breath and aimed carefully at his nearing target. He was almost afraid to look, but he forced himself to watch as the knife lodged in the turning tire -- and nothing happened.  
  
Challenger stood up, perplexed. At that moment, the knife was expunged and the tire blew. The vehicle was thrown end over end. Hands on hips, Challenger stood and admired his handiwork. "Not even Veronica could have done better," he congratulated himself.  
  
Finn kept running. She hadn't even looked back. She was fast.  
  
Challenger couldn't hope to catch her, but he started after her anyway; calling her name all the while.  
  
Finally, out of breath, the professor stopped. He bent over trying to breathe normally. When he straightened, Finn was grinning only a few feet from him.  
  
"So," she asked, "are we going home?"  
  
********  
  
Veronica and Ned Malone had reached the rubber tree grove, but found nothing except the containers of sap that Roxton and Marguerite had collected.  
  
Crouching down, the jungle girl studied the ground. "It looks like they were headed back to the tree-house," she stood and turned to Ned, "they were running."  
  
"I hope that means we're headed back to the tree-house," he replied thinking of how much he wanted to rest and clean up.  
  
"By way of the T-Rex hatchery," was Veronica's answer.  
  
They walked most of the way in comfortable silence. Watching the jungle girl as she deftly avoided overhanging branches, Ned spoke, "I thought about you every day."  
  
Veronica smiled and tried to think of a response.  
  
"You were right," he continued.  
  
"About what?" she asked ducking under a limb.  
  
"Us."  
  
A leaden weight suddenly dropped to the pit of her stomach. Her smile vanished.  
  
The reporter continued, oblivious, "we are good friends, ... the very best friends. That is something I never want to change."  
  
"Everything changes, Ned," she reminded him, there was a slight edge to her tone which he didn't catch.  
  
"But not us," he said with a boyish grin as he came along side her. They had reached the hatchery. Several large nests which were little more than indentations in the ground surrounded them. Some had only broken shells, others held eggs still waiting to hatch.  
  
"Whether or not we ever find a way off of this plateau, we will always be friends."  
  
"Ned ..." she started. She wanted to admit that her feeling for him were much more than friendship. But she got no further.  
  
Two rippling puddles appeared in the air in front of them, and out walked Professor Challenger and Finn.  
  
Squealing in delight, Veronica grabbed Malone's arm. "They're here!" Then she bounded forward to hug them both.  
  
The exuberant reunion was interrupted by the bellow of an approaching Tyrannosaurus. They could feel the ground tremor.  
  
"It might be a good idea if we save this for the tree-house," Challenger suggested, "A rest and a hot meal seem to be the order."  
  
"And a bath," Malone added as the four hurried away before the dinosaur could arrive to find them in it's hatchery.  
  
********  
  
More monster than man, Dagthan lurched toward Marguerite. Blood bubbled from his flattened nose with each whistling breath. His eyes were swollen slits. The battered remnants of his face paralysed her.  
  
As his clammy hands closed around her throat, life suddenly returned to her limbs. She stomped down hard on his foot. His grip loosened and she immediately forced her forearms up and out breaking his hold completely. She brought her knee up sharply and he doubled over. With her fist, she caught him squarely on his bloodied jaw and felt immense satisfaction as he hit the ground.  
  
Marguerite hurried over to Roxton who was looking at her in admiration. He had only had the breath knocked out of him and was even now getting to his feet. With the heiress's help, he was up immediately. "For a half-dead guy," the hunter said as he stretched his bruised back, "he has quite a kick."  
  
Marguerite agreed with a relieved laugh.  
  
During the entire fight, Bochra had not moved. He stood, hands clasped, head slightly bowed, and his lips were moving. If he was speaking, they couldn't hear it.  
  
To the explorer's continuing dismay, Dagthan rose again.  
  
"Doesn't he know when to stop?" Marguerite complained.  
  
As Dagthan turned toward them, Bochra suddenly raised his arms and shouted in an odd, guttural language.  
  
There was a churning in the water below them. Marguerite and Roxton watched in horror as a huge serpent raised it's head from the pit. Dagthan screamed, but before he could attempt to escape, the serpent grabbed him in it's tremendous mouth and withdrew back to the pool.  
  
"We were in that water," Marguerite mumbled, appalled.  
  
Bochra turned to them with his serene smile, "Time for you to return to your own time."  
  
The explorers could not have agreed more.  
  
"You will be returned as soon as you exit the cave."  
  
"Thank you," Roxton said, then added under his breath, "I think." He held tight to Marguerite's hand as they left the cave stopping only to retrieve her pistol from the floor. They didn't look back until they were back in the fresh air. When they looked, the cave entrance was blocked by rocks.  
  
"Are we back?" The raven-haired beauty asked.  
  
"Hopefully," the hunter answered. He held up his hand still clasping hers, "In any case, I am not letting go of you until I am sure this is all over. I am not going to lose you again."  
  
"I'll hold you to that," she replied.  
  
******** 


	7. Chapter 7

The tree-house was alive with the chatter of friends sharing their experiences. Dinner had been finished; Roxton was still nibbling at the crumbs left on his plate. Beside him, Malone was just finishing his recitation.  
  
"Vikings?" Challenger asked incredulously as he pushed his plate away, "Now how, I wonder did they end up here on the plateau?"  
  
"I've been thinking about that," Malone replied. "My mother used to tell a story... it is almost a family myth ... how her ancestors had explored North America long before Columbus, before Leif Ericson, and returned with glowing stories of the new land. Those stories apparently inspired others to explore beyond the known world. The original ship left again to explore further south. It never returned, but there were rumours that they had found a new home where the trees and animals were bigger and more plentiful ... "  
  
"The animals are definitely bigger," Finn mumbled causing Veronica to snigger.  
  
The journalist continued, "Family legend holds that I had a relative on that voyage. The Viking, the one who looked so very much like me, he could be my great -- many times great -- uncle.  
  
Challenger excitedly exclaimed, "you have prior ties to the plateau! You were drawn to that time and place! Now, I was in the far future ... I've always thought I was ahead of my time ... There, the machine rulers were dedicated to destroying me and my work. They searched me out. Veronica, of course, remained in the tree-house. Finn was returned to her original time." Marguerite stood and collected some of the plates. She took them into the kitchen as the professor continued, "Roxton, is it possible that you have family ties to these conquistadors?"  
  
The hunter's face went blank. His family tie wasn't something he was eager to share, but neither was he good at dissimulating.  
  
"I don't think the Roxton family can lay claim to any conquistadors in their family tree," Marguerite offered as she walked back toward the table, "the Kruxs on the other hand ..." she gave one of her enigmatic smiles as she drifted off leaving them to draw their own conclusions.  
  
"So, Marguerite was the reason you were drawn back to that time," Challenger mused, "You, Roxton, were apparently there only because the two of you were together when the distortion hit."  
  
Only Roxton noticed as Marguerite surreptitiously slipped from the room. As Challenger continued a highly animated explanation of his theory, Roxton rose and quietly withdrew from the room.  
  
Marguerite was standing silently staring into the dark jungle. Her hands rested lightly on the railing. She didn't have to look to know who was joining her on the balcony.  
  
Roxton leaned back against the rail and let his eyes caress her shadowed face. "Thanks," he said simply. Without looking away from the moonlit trees, she smiled and answered, "I think we're all entitled to a few secrets."  
  
"But not from each other," he amended.  
  
A troubled look crossed her face and she opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped. She craned her neck to look into the great room where Challenger was now standing, one foot on a chair, speaking excitedly to his tiring audience. She turned back to her study of the trees saying, "Looks like George is back to describing his 'perfect execution' of throwing his knife."  
  
Roxton chuckled, "For the fourth or fifth time." He turned to face the jungle, moving closer to Marguerite at the same time. He put his hand on the rail and slid it over until his little finger was touching hers. After staying quiet for a long while, he stubbornly returned to the subject she was avoiding. "There is no reason to keep it all bottled up," he coaxed, "not any more."  
  
"John ... " she started warningly.  
  
"After all we've been through together, you can't really think that anything from the past would change how I feel."  
  
"I keep remembering those things you said in the cave."  
  
"Marguerite," his hand crept over the top of hers and he squeezed it gently, "I was frustrated. I never meant -- I'm sorry," he finished lamely.  
  
"We both said and did things we shouldn't have." She started to pull her hand away, but he held tight. Finally, she met his eyes, "You know that we can't possibly work off this plateau."  
  
"If that's true, then I never want to leave."  
  
She turned back to the darkness.  
  
After a quick look inside to see if they were being observed, Roxton let go of her hand, took her chin, and forced her to face him again. "It doesn't matter where we are; I promised that I would never let you go and I never will. I love you, Marguerite, whether here, in London, Shanghai, or the moon, that won't change."  
  
"I want to believe that," she whispered, but her expression voiced strong doubts.  
  
"Believe it," he promised. "I don't guarantee that I won't lose my temper again," he added lightly and was rewarded by her involuntary smile.  
  
In the silence, George Challenger's voice could clearly be heard saying, "It was a throw worthy of Veronica!"  
  
Marguerite stifled a laugh while Roxton shook his head and turned his attention to the jungle. "As glad as I am that everyone is back, it would be nice to have a little privacy."  
  
"We could talk later," she suggested tentatively, "over a cup of your wonderful coffee."  
  
The hunter was taken completely by surprise, "Tonight?"  
  
"Unless," she touched his hand suggestively, "unless you have other plans?"  
  
"No," he was quick to agree, "coffee would be perfect." As her fingers continued to trace unknown patterns on his hand, he added with a leer in his eyes, "It may lead to more than coffee."  
  
"I'm counting on it," the heiress replied.  
  
They were interrupted by a squeal from inside before either could say more.  
  
"I suppose," Marguerite said, "we should see what's going on."  
  
Disappointed by the interruption, but mollified by their planned assignation, Roxton sighed, "I suppose." Hand at the small of her back, he escorted the raven haired beauty back into the great room.  
  
Challenger was taking a small jar from Finn. Veronica and Malone were also intently studying the jar.  
  
"What is it?" Roxton asked.  
  
Without looking, Veronica answered, "The beetle, Arthur."  
  
"I'm not sure he is -- was -- actually a beetle," the professor countered, "He spun a cocoon which we all know would be quite an aberration for a beetle. And now, the cocoon had been shed,"  
  
"So where is the butterfly?" Marguerite asked straining to see over Malone's shoulder.  
  
Challenger removed the lid and knocked the empty cocoon out onto the table. "Whatever he became, it's not here now."  
  
"I wonder if we'll ever find out," Roxton mused.  
  
"Another mystery of this enigmatic plateau," the professor replied.  
  
end. 


End file.
